Lord, this season
lives in the absence of color,
yet You remain—
etched in every branch
that stretches skyward,
in every brittle blade of grass
asleep beneath the frost.

Our landscape is stripped bare,
the earth laid open
like a rune of quiet surrender.
And yet, all remains full.
Full of the hum of stillness,
the hush of snow
that falls in silken serenity,
revealing Your hand.

Teach me to see,
not just the sharp outlines
of tree and stone,
but the infinite artistry
of shadow and light—
Your beauty woven
into this monochrome.

And when the sun, low and soft,
paints the horizon gold,
I am reminded—
even in the coldest of seasons,
Your warmth is near.

So let my heart, like the winter earth,
be open to Your quiet work.
Strip me bare,
leave only what is essential:
     the space to hold
     the splendor of Your presence.

Amen.